


Phantom Pain

by Kenocka



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, TW: Mutilation Mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenocka/pseuds/Kenocka
Summary: Y'all ever think about how Zenos’ cut across the WoL’s chest in their first fight leaves a physical as well as a mental scar on them (both)?
Kudos: 2





	Phantom Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from my own Tweets: Y'all ever think about how Zenos’ cut across the WoL’s chest in their first fight leaves a physical as well as a mental scar on them (both)?
> 
> I like to think that the WoL stared at that scar in disbelief for weeks after getting it, probably running a hand along the still painful edges and staring at it and themselves in a mirror. That sudden taste of mortality and fear becoming a fresh sensation all over again and then, in Doma, it happens again. This time the WoL is saved by pure happenstance. 
> 
> They go back to obsessively running a hand over that scar and looking at it in a mirror because Zenos’ words are terrifying and it’s not just a scar, it’s a mark of _ownership_ now. It’s worse after hearing Zenos call them a beast or specifically _his_ beast. 
> 
> Even after Zenos’ death that scar is still there and haunting them forever but hey, no one else can really touch them, the only one that could is _dead_ and gone.
> 
> And then it turns out that no, no he’s not. He’s back and _worse_ than before. Before they had to worry about a physical altercation, now Zenos is an Ascian in all but name. He can be anywhere at any time. He can hurt their friends no matter how closely they clutch them to their chest. There’s nothing they can really do to stop him at this point. 
> 
> Can you imagine the hopelessness? The fear? The cold, gut-churning dread that the one person you could never defeat on your own and only barely stopped (with help!) is back and still _hunting_ you down like an animal?
> 
> Horrifying. God I should write this.
> 
> AU where my boy Lobeaux is the actual WoL bc the muse bit thanks to a series of tweets I did a few weeks ago and the LL’s trailer reigniting a fire for this idea.

The scar is what jerks him out of a dead sleep. He yelps and is throwing his hand up to his right shoulder, where the cut started and is the deepest before he’s even fully awake. There’s a moment where panic and fear have taken over and his eyes scan the room for enemies.

Well really, one enemy. _The_ enemy. No others have ever left a scar on him like this. Everything else is a pale imitation of this. Nothing else, no one else, has him leaping out of what was a dreamless sleep into panting wakefulness.

The phantom pain burns along his scar, just as bad as when he was first cut. It makes him wince and his hand tightens into a painful grip where he’s holding himself. He presses his arm down across his chest, the other going across his waist to his own hip. A hug that offers no comfort to the recipient.

He starts shaking, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes until they’re falling freely and he hunches over in bed to shake and shudder. Hiccups break the silence frequently until he takes a few deep breaths.

They are not calming but he’s not so dizzy as he was when he first awoke and it’s helping to ease the nausea.

He allows this moment of weakness. This moment of fear. It’s private and his and it’s not like he’s allowed to be human around others after all. He’s a weapon to be pointed at enemies.

A few more breaths and tears and the wooziness subsides enough for him to throw his disheveled bedding aside. Protectively, his arms resume their previous positions and he hugs himself again before he stands and walks to the vanity provided by the inn. There he stands in front the mirror, face ugly and pink from tears and terror, arms drawn around himself in a feeble attempt at self comfort.

There he pulls his arm, his left arm, down across his chest, grimacing in pain and anger and fear and disgust at the scar that Zenos left him with.

Just the sight of the damage is enough to make him retch and he’s quick to put a hand to his mouth to stop any potential accidents. It stays there as his other hand unwinds from his waist to trace upward from where the scar ends and is shallowest, to his shoulder where it starts and is deepest.

He retches again this time he has to turn his head to the side, stop looking at the mutilation of his body entirely to avoid making a mess. The back of his throat burns from the mixture of bile and acid. Tears that never really stopped come forth more furiously than before.

It takes a minute (or two) but he manages to regain some semblance of control even as the fear makes him quake again. With his left hand firmly clamped over his mouth, he looks at the mirror again. At his _mark_. At the one flaw that shows just how very mortal he is. The thing that has bound him forever to a bastard prince makes him shudder more visibly in the dimly lit room.

And he starts to trace it again, hidden lips puckered in a wince of pain and fear and loathing directed at Garlemald’s crowned heir and himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Might continue this if I feel the muse to do so but otherwise I'm saying this one is done.


End file.
